The smallest two fingers on Anakin’s right hand twitched – a new nervous tick he’d noticed the hand do when he was feeling heightened emotions. He made a note on his mental list of adjustments he needed to make to the prosthetic.
He understood. Padmé was refusing to discuss the possibility of them – there was no ‘them’. This was the end of that discussion. The end of the one bright spot of hope he had left. He fought hard to maintain his composure; he’d done it before, back on Naboo when Padmé had rejected him the first time. He couldn’t fathom why it hurt so much more now hearing it again.
It was the culmination of loss – his mother, his arm, and now this.
But though this felt like a spike to his heart and made his future feel directionless and bleak, he still respected her, as he had on Naboo. It was still her choice to make and he could not – would not force her to choose differently.
“I have been ordered to escort you back to Naboo,” he said flatly as he stood. He could not back out of this assignment if he wished his raw emotions to go unnoticed by Obi-Wan, and he knew he could not stand being scrutinized and told how terrible attachments were right now. He couldn’t weather that storm so steeped in loss. “And to return as promptly as commercial transport will allow.” That granted him, he guessed, at most one planetary rotation before he must return to Coruscant. There was a war starting, and the Jedi were planning their part, he would not be excused for being gone longer than was necessary.
This would be a taxing trip.
“I will leave you to your packing. I will remain out of your way on the balcony until it is time for departure.” He bowed to Padmé back, as courtesy dictated he must do, and then moved for the balcony.
no subject
He understood. Padmé was refusing to discuss the possibility of them – there was no ‘them’. This was the end of that discussion. The end of the one bright spot of hope he had left. He fought hard to maintain his composure; he’d done it before, back on Naboo when Padmé had rejected him the first time. He couldn’t fathom why it hurt so much more now hearing it again.
It was the culmination of loss – his mother, his arm, and now this.
But though this felt like a spike to his heart and made his future feel directionless and bleak, he still respected her, as he had on Naboo. It was still her choice to make and he could not – would not force her to choose differently.
“I have been ordered to escort you back to Naboo,” he said flatly as he stood. He could not back out of this assignment if he wished his raw emotions to go unnoticed by Obi-Wan, and he knew he could not stand being scrutinized and told how terrible attachments were right now. He couldn’t weather that storm so steeped in loss. “And to return as promptly as commercial transport will allow.” That granted him, he guessed, at most one planetary rotation before he must return to Coruscant. There was a war starting, and the Jedi were planning their part, he would not be excused for being gone longer than was necessary.
This would be a taxing trip.
“I will leave you to your packing. I will remain out of your way on the balcony until it is time for departure.” He bowed to Padmé back, as courtesy dictated he must do, and then moved for the balcony.